T.P.R. Burger Rules

Like all of T.P.R.’s burgers, the jalapeño burger arrives on a Hawaiian roll. Vishal Malhotra

At what point does a burger become, well, something else? Texas Patty Road Burger, or just T.P.R. Burger, offers a vast selection of creative takes on Texas’ favorite no-forks-needed food that often share little more in common than a bun.

Sitting in the corner of a small strip mall, T.P.R. is brightly lit inside, itsburnt orange walls adorned with a smattering of sports memorabilia. A guest and I were greeted at the door by a young woman who also turned out to be our waitress. The first words out of her mouth were, “Do you like fried pickles?” OK, that’s one way to start a conversation, we thought, but we said sure, who doesn’t.

Turns out, fried pickles are complimentary at T.P.R. As soon as we got seated, we were given a basket of thickly battered dill slices with sides of regular and chile pepper-infused ranch dressing. The pickles were fresh, and the heavy coating kept them firm.

Similarly, the fried jalapeños were plentiful and hearty, though the batter was a little on the bland side –– some cornmeal or seasoning could have helped. The peppers themselves, though, were explosively tasty.

The chili cheese fries amounted to one huge mound of crisp, hand-cut potatoes, meaty chili, and melted cheddar. The sharp cheese gave every bite a nice zing, and the beef was peppery and succulent.

Now for the burgers. We broke the seal with the restaurant’s namesake offering. The ingredients were pretty standard –– two juicy beef patties (medium-well, as requested), several cuts of smoky bacon, and two slices of melted American cheese, plus tomatoes, onions, pickles, and a kiss of mayo –– but the skillful preparation made the T.P.R. Burger a real gustatory odyssey. The thing was hot, filling, and flavorful.

Just as big but way messier (and in the most delightful way) was the chili burger: two beef patties smothered in chili and melted American cheese.

Unlike most burger joints, T.P.R. acknowledges its vegetarian customers. The veggie burger had a welcome charbroiled kick, and a liberal smear of mustard kept each bite lively.

The craziest item was the Dog Burger: two beef patties topped with sweet caramelized onions, melted American cheese, and –– wait for it –– two grilled hot dogs. Though not as scrumptious as the T.P.R. Burger, it was a real sensory experience.

The only disappointment was the country-fried steak sandwich. Though the beef was tender and savory, the bun seemed like overkill for an item that was already battered and fried. Each sandwich comes on a buttered, lightly toasted Hawaiian roll, which looks like a traditional sandwich bun but is thicker and sweeter due to trace amounts of honey and citrus oil.

Since 1994, Fort Worth Weekly has provided a vibrant alternative to North Texas’ often-timid mainstream media outlets by offering incisive, irreverent reportage that keeps readers well informed and the powers-that-be worried.